


Not Exactly Mother's Milk

by mickeym



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Male Lactation, Nipple Play, Nursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean didn't think he got hit by the witch's spell. He was wrong.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Exactly Mother's Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fill _Dean’s lactating and it’s a little bit painful, not to mention humiliating. Sam’s helps out._.

At first Sam thinks it's just sweat. It's hot outside, and inside – motel a/c isn't up to par anyway, and the day is hotter than usual – and they're both sporting sweat-dampened t-shirts.

But Dean's fidgeting, too; shifting around and tugging on his shirt, smoothing his hands up and down his chest. Sam's watching him over the edge of his laptop screen, and this time when Dean rubs, he presses down, too, wincing slightly. A damp spot appears, then spreads outward. Sam can't help looking up at Dean, and catches his brother staring down at himself, face flushed.

"Dean? You okay?"

Dean startles, gaze flying up to meet Sam's. "Uh."

He glances down again and drops his hands, and it's then Sam sees the front of Dean's shirt isn't just damp any longer, it's wet. 

"What's going on?"

Dean swallows heavily, and Sam watches, fascinated, as his blush deepens and spreads. "You, um. You remember that witch we ran into?"

"The one who was casting pseudocyesis spells on women, making them think they were pregnant? Yeah." That was a weird one, particularly when the witch expressed her disapproval of them shutting her down by throwing a couple of the spells at them. He narrows his eyes when Dean squirms. "You said it didn't hit you."

"I said I didn't _think_ it hit me." Dean reaches up and rubs his chest again, fingers cupping and kneading gently. Dean's nipples are fully erect beneath his t-shirt, wet material clinging and molding to them. Sam makes himself look away, look back up at Dean's face. "I guess I was wrong."

"That was three weeks ago. Are you—" Sam can't help it, his focus is drawn back to Dean's chest. To his nipples.

"They ache, Sam. And it's—I can feel, the wetness, and all I want to do is touch them, but it fucking _hurts_ \--"

Sam's pretty sure he knows what's going on, but he needs to see. Needs to see, to know for sure. 

"Take your shirt off," he says, voice coming out rough and hoarse. 

"Sam—"

"Do it." He's out of his chair, crowding in close to his brother, and yeah. This close he smells it, even before Dean has the shirt up and off: the strange, sweet scent of breast milk. Fuck.

Dean's eyes are shut, face a deep, rich shade of red as his head emerges. He doesn't open his eyes, doesn't look at Sam. Just breathes, fast and shallow. While Sam watches, milk beads up on the right nipple, then on the left. He reaches out and touches them, gentle brush of his fingertips, and a low, needy whine falls from Dean's lips at the same time a throbbing hunger starts winding through Sam. The whine ends in a hiss when Sam pinches lightly.

"Dammit, I said they hurt, Sam."

"I know." Sam pinches again, very gently, then strokes his fingers over the areolas, feeling the texture change as they draw up tight. He kneels down in between Dean's legs and leans in closer, noticing for the first time that the color's changed, darkened up some, and Dean's nipples are larger. They shine with moisture, and Sam licks his lips and looks up at Dean. "I want--can I taste?"

"Jesus." Dean whispers the word, then nods slowly. "Yeah, but. Careful. Please."

Sam licks first, laps at one tightly furled point, and feels Dean tremble. Hears him breathe out low and harsh, the sound sparking the arousal simmering in Sam's blood that much higher.

He draws his tongue around the nipple then seals his mouth over it and pulls, suckles hard until he feels the nipple contract and he tastes milk. Dean groans, arches toward him, hands coming up to hold Sam's head, his fingers twining through Sam's hair.

"Harder—Sammy, harder, Jesus." The words are hoarse, Dean's voice shot through with pleasure and pain, thick with arousal. Sam's heard him sound like that before, too many times to count, though usually it involved fucking or blowjobs or something. Never anything like this. But then, _he's_ never gotten off on anything like this before, either.

He pulls off the nipple and laps up the droplets that continue to bead up, and looks up at his brother. "This is—"

"Fucking weird," Dean says, fingers tightening a little. "But God, don't stop. It feels—it feels good."

Sam bends his head toward Dean and latches on again, suckling until the milk is flowing once more and all he has to do is swallow. He closes his eyes and lets arousal and love course through him; feeling oddly tender and erotic all at the same time. 

"Other side, need to switch." Dean's shaking in his arms, and he groans long and low when Sam switches sides, mouth pulling, pulling, suckling until he feels the spurt as Dean's milk -- _God, how fucking insane does that sound?_ \-- lets down.

When Dean's lips brush the crown of Sam's head, it feels like a benediction and a thank-you all at once, and Sam finds himself wondering how long the spell might last. He's not sure he's ready for it to end, yet.

~fin~


End file.
